


Semper Fidelis

by supersleepygoat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 11:25:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16994109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supersleepygoat/pseuds/supersleepygoat
Summary: Set in the flashback scene from Something Wicked(1x18). John is on a seemingly mundane hunt when his past catches up to him. He is forced to relive his most shameful memory and face the consequences of the life he thought he left behind.





	Semper Fidelis

**Author's Note:**

> Based off the song “Pretty Funny” from Dogfight. I fused the plot of Supernatural with the musical because the timeline actually worked out. I had every intention of making this fluffy but the angst train rolled in instead.

_ 1988 _

John is sitting in the back corner of a twenty-four-hour diner. It’s late and he’s the only patron so the waitress has taken it upon herself to catch up on her crossword puzzle. That’s why John comes here. There is a steady stream of coffee and no one bothers him. He can spread out his research on the table without anyone looking over his shoulder. The indifferent waitress doesn’t even notice the demonic lore in front of him. 

John finally caught a break. He is hunting a Shtriga. He followed it to Fort Douglas, Wisconsin. He’s been following the trail of fallen children for days and is getting close. 

John is writing notes in his journal when someone slips into the booth across from him. John puts his pen down and sits up straight. He eyes his uninvited visitor. She is a pretty young woman, couldn’t be more than her early twenties. Her dark hair sits a an inch or two below her shoulders. Her dark eyes are lined with a little too much eyeliner and it steals some of their warmth. But judging by the invisible wall surrounding this girl, that is the point. 

“John Winchester?” The girls voice is inherently soft but there is an added edge to it. 

John smiles but it is anything but polite and welcoming. “Do I know you, kid?” John leans back and puts his hands under the table. He’s got a gun holstered on his hip. He pulls it out with the subtly only a true hunter can pull off. 

“No, but that’s the problem,” John’s new companion replies. “You going to eat that? I haven’t eaten in a while.” The dark haired girl pulls John’s plate of long forgotten and half eaten fries toward her. John’s finger twitches on his gun at her sudden movement. “Relax, you can put that thing away,” she says as she gestures a cold French fry toward John’s loaded lap. “I’m not here to hurt you. I should… but I won’t.” She continues to stuff her face. 

John uncocks his gun but keeps it close by. “Then why are you here?” John has a million other questions but doesn’t want to appear too curious or too worried. 

The girl bites her cheek as she studies John’s familiar face. She wipes the salt off her fingers and extends her right hand out for John to shake. 

“My name is Rose,” the girl smiles. John does not accept her expended hand so she takes it back. “My mom named me after her-”

“I don’t care,” John cuts her off.  “Why are you here?” John asks again but with less patience, as if that is even possible. 

“You know, you’re a hard man to track down. I’ve been looking for you my whole life. I know there are a million better ways to do this but if I don’t do this now, you may disappear again and I’ll lose my shot.”

“Are you ever going to spit it out?” John cocks his gun under the table again. It’s a threat to the young girl that he doesn’t like being kept in the dark.

“I think you knew my mother.”

“I know a lot of people’s mothers,” John says with even more annoyance. 

“No. You  _ knew her  _ knew her. As in… you had sex with her, knocked her up, and left her high and dry. Are your bells ringing yet?” The dark-haired girl can’t help but sass the older man. She has a lifetime of resentment and rebellion to dish out and only a small window of opportunity.

“You got the wrong guy,” John says with finality. He leaves no room for argument. But, his new friend isn’t so willing to accept his answer. 

“John Winchester. Marine Corporal. Shipped out to Vietnam in 1967. But you spent the night before your deployment in San Francisco of all places. You know, you don’t strike me as a ‘fun in the sun’ kind of guy. Anyway, you met a woman named Y/N Y/L/N. You took her to a party, you humiliated her, made her feel like crap about herself, then sweet talked her into bed. You two spent the night together then POOF… you were gone. Was that not you? Am I looking for another John Winchester?” Rose raises an eyebrow up at her supposed father. 

John’s mouth hangs agape for a long moment before his look of shock morphs into one of anger. He slams his hand down on the table and points his gun square in Rose’s face. He doesn’t care if the waitress walks by and witnesses his act of violence. He just needs answers. 

“How the hell do you know that? No one knows that. No one knows about… her.” John reels back and pulls a vile of holy water out of his bag. He splashes it in Rose’s face. She flinches at the cold spray but her skin doesn’t burn. 

Rose’s face hardens and she slams her arm down on the table, wrist up. She pulls a silver knife out of her boot and cuts into her forearm. “You satisfied?” She growls at John when, once again, her skin doesn’t burn. 

He stares at her in shock once more. 

“I know who you are, John. I know what you are, a hunter. Like I said, I’ve been looking for you for a long time. Besides, I had to learn quick after mom died. Can’t get vengeance if you don’t know how to kill the bastard you’re after.”

John’s face falls. “Y/N… she’s…” 

“Dead? Yeah. What did you expect? She had  _ your  _ child. She gave birth to a Winchester. I may not carry your name but I have your blood. We’ve had a target painted on our backs for a long time.”

“How’d it happens? What got her?” John asks still a little hazed. 

“A man came to visit. He said he knew you. I was fifteen-”

John does some quick math in his head before interrupting you. “You were fifteen. Was this 1983?” He says with a hitch in his breath. 

You nod. “I know you lost a lot that year too. But that’s why I am here. The man who came to visit me, he had yellow eyes. I think we're after the same thing. We can help each other.”  

* * *

_ 1967 _

“I think you should come with me,” the handsome young Marine smiles at you. 

You blush as you clear his table. “I can’t just leave with you! I don’t even know you.” You take his empty plate away and can feel him watch you walk away. You never really have men flirting with you at work, or anywhere. It happened once, but that guy was just hoping to get a free cola out of you. But you turned him out on his ass so the flirting didn’t last too long. 

John came into your mom’s diner and sat in your section. He’s been awfully chatty and very flirty. He keeps asking you to skip the rest of your shift and go to this party with him downtown. He is very insistent. You would be a little creeped out if you weren’t so flattered. You’ve never been on a date before, let alone with such a handsome Marine. 

When you come back out of the kitchen, John has left his friends at his table and is waiting for you by the counter. 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. It’s true, you don’t know me. But isn’t that how all good friendships start? You won’t know me until you get to know me,” John reasons with you using shaky logic. 

“One could also use the same argument to describe that’s how all murders start!” You shoot back at him.

John laughs and you swear there was an honest to god sparkle in his eye. “I can’t argue with that. But, I can promise I will  _ not _ murder you. You have my word. Scouts honour.” John stands a little straighter and puts three fingers in the air. 

“You were an Eagle Scout?” you ask with skepticism. 

“Sure was,” John straightens his tie. “And see! We’re getting to know each other a little better with every passing word. Why would you want to stop that kind of momentum now?” John looks back at his table of friends who are packing up their stuff to leave. John turns back to you with a dramatic look of regret. “We’re headed out now. I don’t want to leave without you. I want to show you off. Come to this party with me.” John holds out his hand for you to take. 

You almost take it. The temptation of his warm dark eyes is too much. You squeeze your eyes shut and pull away. 

“I can’t. I want to but I can’t. I have to help my mom close up. I still have to mop. Plus, I don’t really drink. I’ll step on your toes if we start dancing and I’ll make a fool of us both. You’ll have better luck with someone-”

“I don’t want anyone else,” John assures you. “I don’t drink much either,” John lies. “And, I don’t dance anyway. We’ll be fools together.” 

You’ve never had anyone work this hard for your favour before. It feels nice. 

John’s friends call to him from the exit. John turns back to you and sighs. “It would have been fun. We could have had a real nice time. But, I understand. Have a good night.” 

John puts on his best sorrowful look as he turns toward the door. He drags his feet as walks away. He is waiting for you to change your mind. He doesn’t have to wait long. 

“John, wait!” you shout after him. “I’m going with you. Let me run upstairs and change. I’ll just be a minute.”

“I’ll be here,” John winks at you. 

You turn to run off but bump into a chair in your flustered state. You look back and give John a shy smile before dashing out of sight. 

John turns back to his friends and gives them a wink. But, he can also feel a pit growing in his stomach. Now, they all have found dates for this evening. Quality dates that could win any one of them the top prize. This party isn’t a normal party. It’s a Dogfight. A Dogfight is a tradition among Marines. So, John could not refuse. 

The rules to a Dogfight are simple. Each Marine pitches in fifty dollars. Then, the Marine who brings the ugliest date wins the pot. They must dance to the final song to be entered in for judging. 

John normally would never do such a thing to a poor girl but he was assured his date would never find out. “We give a chick a nice night out and maybe wins some money on the side. No harm done,” John’s friend reasoned with him. John really was not in a position to say no. 

You dart into the kitchen and tell your mom you’ll be ducking out early since it’s been a slow night. She doesn’t need to know you are actually leaving with a Marine. She wouldn’t believe it anyway, you barely believe it yourself. You’ve never had a man like John interested in you before. You and your mom live upstairs from the diner so you make a dash for your room. 

You pull out every dress you own. Nothing seems right. Your mom once told you never to wear a white dress on a first date, she says you’ll look too eager. So, you toss your white dress aside. By the time you decide on a flowy maroon dress, you’ve made quite the mess. Your entire bedroom floor is littered with the dresses that didn’t make the cut. You quickly brushed out your hair and applied a thin layer of lipstick. 

Your stomach flutters at the idea of John smudging that lipstick with kisses. You have this image in your mind that he’ll kiss you as the band plays a romantic song just for the two of you. You quiet those hopes. You tell yourself not to get too excited. But, that’s nearly impossible. You skip out of your room and leave your bedroom in shambles. But you’ll deal with the mess later. Right now, you’ve got a Marine to meet. 

The party starts off exactly how you envisioned. Well, not exactly. You thought you and John would dance and you would meet his friends. But instead you’ve spent the whole night sitting at a table in the back corner just talking. It’s nice though. You like talking to John. Hours have passed and you have barely noticed. He makes you laugh and now that’s he’s away from his friends, he’s a little more open. He’s more at ease. He dropped that cocky façade but he still has a confidence that you find endearing. 

You’re starting to like this guy. He seems interested in you. John asks you about your life and your passions. Saying your dreams out loud makes you feel a little silly. John is about to go to war and you’re talking his ear off about wanting to be songwriter someday. But John doesn’t make you feel like your dreams are frivolous or inconsequential. He supports you. 

The band makes the announcement that they are about to play their last song for the evening. All the couples start making their way to the dance floor, except for you.

You look back at John with pleading eyes. You hadn’t danced once this entire time. You and John have been hiding away back here all night. He hasn’t shown you off or spun you around. The fantasy of dancing with your Marine is slipping away. 

“John? Do you think we could dance, just this once?” 

“I told you, I don’t dance.” John tries to avoid the issue. He doesn’t want to parade you around or enter you in this stupid contest. “You’re a nice girl and this is a fucked-up place. What do you say, we get out of here? I’ll take you somewhere better. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. I’ll get us a private band if that’s what you want. But, we should go. Now,” John pleads with you.

You look down at your fidgeting fingers as you ask the question that been eating away at the back of your mind. “Do you not want to be seen with me? I know I am not the most-”

“No! God no! You’re better than this place. You don’t deserve to be here. You’re beautiful, inside and out. But this place-”

“John! Get your girl and come dance,” John’s friend, Birdlace, from the diner shouts as he guides his date to the floor.

“Please,” you ask him one more time trying not to sound too desperate. 

John sighs with defeat. He takes you by the hand and brings you into the crowd. The music starts and you see John hesitate. He really doesn’t want to do this, that much is obvious. You’re about to tell him he doesn’t have to do this. You can tell by the pain written on his face this is utter torture for him. You’re about to put him out of his misery when his friend pushes him into you. 

The music starts and John is pressed up against you. For a moment, the world falls away and John forgets where he is. All he sees is the girl in front of him. He takes you in his arms and begins to sway your bodies in time to the slow beat. 

“I thought you said you can’t dance,” you smile at John as his feet move smoother than you anticipated. 

“I said, I  _ don’t  _ dance. But I  _ can _ if I need to.” John sends you a wicked smile before twirling you in his arms. 

You trip over your feet and stumble back into his arms rather than land graciously. You can help but giggle at how graceless you are. “Sorry, I’m not as smooth as you are. You should warn a girl the next time you try something like that.”

“Why would I do that?” John spin you again and you fall into him again. “I like catching you,” he laughs with you. 

It is not until the music stops that do you remember there are other people in the room. 

“We should get out of here,” John says in a panic. That easy look in his eyes from when you danced is gone in an instant. 

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, but I should get you home. It’s late,” John would make up any excuse to get you out of here before someone inadvertently gives the rouse away. He made a mistake bringing you here. You really are beautiful. 

You didn’t think John would end the night so abruptly. But if he wants to get rid of you, you won’t force him to stick around. You were having a nice time, but perhaps it wasn’t mutual. 

“I’m just going to run to the washroom. I’ll meet you out front,” you give John a sad smile before rushing off. 

You get to the washroom and find a girl leaning on the sinks counting a small wad of cash. You recognize her as the girl John’s friend came with. She looks up at you and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say there was pity in her eyes.

“Hello,” you say when she eyes you up and down. She doesn’t reply she just keeps staring. “Did you have a good night?” You decide to make small talk with the strange woman to make this less awkward. 

“No, but I got paid. So, I can’t complain. My name’s Marcy.” The woman tucks the wad of cash into her bra and holds her hand out for you to shake. Marcy is a prostitute Birdlace paid to come to this party. He told her this was a Dogfight. She made herself as unattractive as possible for the night so they could win the money and split it. Their rouse paid off, she won. 

“Nice to meet you,” you smile at your new friend. 

“Why did they bring  _ you _ here? You don’t look the type. There is no way you could have won,” the woman responds bluntly.

“Type? What do you mean?” You pull on your dress and look at yourself in the mirror. Is it that obvious you don’t belong with a man like John?

“You’re pretty. You don’t belong here. Was your date intentionally trying to lose?”

“Lose what? Is there a game being played or something?” You press the woman for more information.

Your new friend laughs. “You have no idea.”

* * *

_ 1988 _

Rose pulls a note out of her pocket and hands it to John. He knows what it is before he even opens it. 

_ I’m sorry. I’ve got the diner’s address. I’ll write to you. I’ll make it back to you.  _

_ -John  _

The note is written on the back of a take-out menu to your mom’s diner. He’d recognize it anywhere. That was the most shameful night of his life. That was the first and last night John was true coward. 

He hurt you. After you found out what kind of ‘party’ he took you to you left him. You went back home. John should have just let you be, but he had to explain. He had to apologize and get your forgiveness. John could die over in Vietnam and he didn’t want that to happen with this guilt looming over him. He owed you an apology.

But by the time he got back to the diner in which you lived above, he found you in the back alley trying to open the dumpster. You had a large trash bag and a bottle of whiskey in hand. You were throwing out all those ugly dresses and pointless tubes of lipstick. 

You told him they didn’t make a difference anyway. No matter what you put on or much makeup you wear, it was still the same old face. A face, John clearly thought was Dogfight material. So, why bother.

John knew you were drunk. He knew he shouldn’t have done it. You were drunk, insecure, and vulnerable at that moment. He should have made his apology and left. But instead, he made his apology, he told you how much he was starting to like you and that you were beautiful in his eyes. He could see you were melting into his apology. He was saying everything you needed to hear. You invited him in for drink and he  _ should  _ have refused.

He was gone before dawn. He left you naked and hungover. But, he had a plane to catch and a war to fight. He had every intention of honouring his note and writing to you. He was coming back for you. But the brutal and futile war chipped away at his spirit and he didn’t know what to say. 

He picked up his pen a thousand times to write you a real apology, a real promise. But he didn’t know where to start. After a while, he stopped thinking about back home. His friends were dropping like flies. Every day he was faced with a new horror and every day didn’t have time to mourn. The prospect of ever getting stateside and seeing you again started to dim. He figured it would be better if you hated him instead of missing him. 

But he survived the war. He planned on showing up on your doorstep. But what would he say? What would he do? He was a shell of the man he was before he left. He couldn’t bring that baggage into your life. Soon after he decided to stay away from you, he met Mary. Your memory faded into a distant regret. Until today. 

John realized if he had just written you once or gone to see you, he would have known he had a daughter. Instead, he dropped out of your life and left you no way to reach him. He left you alone to raise his child and he left you alone to die. He just never thought his new hunting life would affect you. But he was wrong. 

“Are you done?” Rose bellows at her estranged father. “I didn’t come here so I can watch you take a stroll down memory lane. I came here for your help. We’re after the same thing. It killed both our families.” 

“How do you know so much about me and my family?” John says as he looks up from the note. 

“The man… with yellow eyes, he told me. I got home from school to find my mom pinned to the ceiling and a man sitting at our kitchen table. When he came to visit, he knew I have resented you my whole life. He thought he could use me. He thought I would willingly join his side. He said having Winchester blood on his team will help his cause. But he never answered me when I asked what his ‘cause’ was. I declined his offer, obviously. But when I turned him down… he gutted my mother right in front of me. He cut her open while she stayed trapped on the ceiling. He left and the house caught fire. I tried to get her down but she screamed at me to leave her behind. I left her. I left her to die and so did you.”

John stares at his daughter. She is stubborn, rash, and a little rude. She is definitely his. 

He failed you but he won’t fail her. He’ll keep her safe, even if it means hurting her. She could no doubt help fight this thing. She knows it, she’s seen it. But he won’t subject his only daughter to this crusade. It’s bad enough he dragged Sam and Dean into this life. He won’t do that to your daughter too. 

“Why now? This happened five years ago. Why are you here only now?” 

“I was fifteen! I was bounced around the foster system until I was 18 and then thrown out on my ass. By the time I found my footing and taught myself how to fight, I still had to find your drifter ass somehow. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re a hard man to track down? I had to get myself ready but I’m ready now. I can help you track this thing. We can fight it together. For your wife and my mom.”

“No,” John answers simply. 

“What do you mean  _ no _ ?” You bite at your father. “I came here for your help. I didn’t come here for your permission. You can’t keep me from this fight. But I can’t do it alone. I need you and you need me!” 

She is definitely his. 

“This is not up for debate. You will stand down,” John orders you. 

“I don’t know if that militant crap works on my brothers, but that bossy attitude doesn’t fly with me.” Rose is not afraid of John. She will stand up to him, like you never got the chance to. 

You always told Rose you weren’t angry with John. He gave you a daughter you loved to death, literally. But Rose always knew you were lonely, like you were waiting for John to come back. And, that always pissed Rose off. She wanted to see you happy. But instead, you died with a broken heart that never healed enough for you to move on.

“You do  _ not _ have brothers. I have sons. They aren’t your brothers and never will be.” John hates himself for what he is about to say but it is the only way to keep his daughter safe. This is the only way he can keep her out of this fight. “We are not your family. You were a mistake I made in another lifetime. Stay out of this life. Stay out of my life. It’ll only get you killed.”

John throws down some cash and gathers his research. Rose is too stunned to reply. She always thought John would be hesitant but she never thought he’d be so cruel. 

“I’m already dead,” she says as John gets up to leave. He turns back to face her, something he didn’t think he had the courage to do. “Whether you claim me as your own or not, I am still a Winchester. And that means I am already dead. Please, help me make my death mean something. Help me avenge my mom. She’s all I’ve ever had. My grandma threw her out once she got pregnant. It’s always been the two of us. Now, it’s just me. I don’t know how to keep going on my own,” she pleads with John. Rose can talk a big game but she is still a fish out of water in the hunting game. 

The sincerity in her voice is completely you. It’s like it is you speaking to him now. John thought he had forgot your voice. But hearing Rose, brings it all back in a painful wave. The open vulnerability and earnestness is what John remember most fondly about you. But that soft underbelly is what lead you to get hurt and it’s what will get Rose killed too. Once again, John would rather be hated than to force your daughter to carry some of his baggage. 

John swallows the lump in his throat and takes a deep breath. “You’ll be fine. You don’t need me, you never did. And I don’t need you, and I never will.”

  
  



End file.
